Disillusioned
by FabulousMildred
Summary: She hacked Iron Man's suit and all hell broke loose. (Spider-Man is on the Team. Also, nerds save the world.)
1. Chapter 1

The girl hosted her bag higher on her arm, looking subtly over her shoulder as she did so. The man was still following her. She tried to breathe evenly. She didn't think he knew that she knew she was being followed. _Act normal, don't walk too fast, get to the street._ She repeated her dad's instructions in her head. _Don't lose the data._

The man's footsteps were closer now. She had a choice; speed up and let him know she knew he was there, or act normal and possibly get caught away from witnesses.

She chose to start running.

She gripped the bag in front of her and weaved in and out of the junk that littered the alley floor. Her stalker was running behind her, his breathing heavy and labored. There was a chain link fence ahead of her that sealed off the alley. She could see the street about ten feet away on the other side of the fence.

Grunting, she heaved her heavy mailbag over the fence and started climbing. The freezing metal cut into her hands as she climbed. She swung one leg over the top and nearly made it over, but then the man grabbed her ankle and twisted, _hard._

She cried out in pain, anchoring herself to the fence with her right hand and foot, and reaching into her boot with her left. She pulled her knife out of its ankle sheath and slashed blindly at the man's face.

He let go of her ankle, cursing loudly. When she jumped down her ankle made a loud crunching noise. She nearly blacked out from the pain. It was definitely broken. She grabbed the mailbag and hobbled toward the street as quickly as she was able. She looked back; he was climbing the fence again. The blood on his snarling face looked black in the moonlight. He made it over the fence, landed in a roll, and then got up running after her.

She made it to the street and hailed a cab, sliding into the backseat and slamming the door.

"Go, just get out of here!" She yelled at the cabbie.

She locked the doors just as a heavy hand slammed on the door handle and yanked. The taxi took off, tires squealing.

She peered through the back window. The man was standing in the middle of the street, staring after them. She relaxed against the leather of the seat, hugging her bag to her chest. She was safe.

For now.

/

"She's got a smile, that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories," Savina 'Shorty' Jones sang. "Misha! Misha Harris! Sing! You love this song!"

Misha grimaced and propped her leg up on the dashboard more securely. "I've got a headache, could you turn it down a little?"

Shorty lowered the radio volume after a minute, glancing over at Misha worryingly. Misha rubbed at her eyes, yawning. She hadn't been sleeping well since that night. The man's face haunted her dreams every time she tried to sleep. She would wake suddenly, panting, cold sweat rolling down her temple. Her heavy cast did nothing to help her relax, either. It was itchy and hot and Misha couldn't wait to get it off in a few weeks.

Shorty was trying to amuse her. Misha had been bored out of her mind ever since she had broken her foot. Shorty was taking her to a coffee shop that she liked that she normally stole wifi from in the upscale part of NYC.

Shorty pulled a chair out for Misha when they arrived, then went and ordered their coffees. Misha pulled her laptop out while she was gone. She booted it up and entered her many passwords, then logged onto the internet.

She went through her usual safety procedures, setting up blocks against anyone or anything that could try to track her internet movements. By the time Shorty was back with her frappe she had finished signing into the secure chat room she used to talk to her dad.

 _The package is secure. I am too._ She wrote. While she waited on a reply, she drank her coffee and talked with Shorty.

Misha had just graduated high school, which was the only normal thing she had ever really done. Her dad had been teaching her computer coding since she was seven years old. She had been his assistant with his research since the age of twelve. She was now eighteen, and had been a known name in the hacker world since the age of fourteen. And no one knew but her dad.

Shorty knew that Misha was uncommonly good with computers, but Misha hadn't told her the ugly side to it. Her dad was on the run, and while she didn't know all the details, Misha knew it was bad. He knew something extremely valuable, and it might just get him killed. The information was on the USB stick she had in a secret pocket in her bag. She hadn't looked at it on her computer yet. She was honestly kind of scared to.

"So I had a thought the other day," Shorty said, crossing her legs.

"There's a surprise," Misha said, yanking her mind to the present. "I hope you didn't strain yourself."  
"Shut up," Shorty rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I was telling this guy I met about how smart you are, right? And he was being a butthole and talking about how cool Tony Stark is and stuff and I told him, 'Dude, my girl Misha is like Tony Stark but you know, hot. And female.'"

"Obviously." Misha said, deadpan. She didn't like where this was going.

"And he totally didn't believe me so I told him you had like maybe actually hacked into one of his Iron Man suits while he was near you one day and he didn't believe me so I told him to meet us here in about five minutes because this place is near Stark Tower and I told him you would hack it and-"

"You did _what?!_ " Misha shrieked. "Shorty, call him right now and tell him I'm sick or something, there is no way I am going to hack into _Tony Stark's Iron Man suit_ -"

"I knew she was making it up."

A tall boy slid into a seat across from Misha, flipping his black hair out of his eyes. Misha wished she could say she was a nice person who waited to make a judgment on people, but the truth was that she just hated the guy on sight. His condescending smirk made her grind her teeth. Shorty looked between them, begging Misha silently with her puppy dog eyes.

" _Again._ I mean I won't hack it _again._ " Misha finished.

Shorty looked like she could kiss her. Misha fervently hoped she never looked at her like that again.

"And who are you?" Misha asked. She immediately adjusted her body language to mirror that of superiority.

"The name's Jake, Jake Willis." Jake said.

"Well, 'Jake, Jake Willis,'" Misha said, making air quotes. "I'll have you know that I _have_ hacked one of Tony Stark's Iron Man suits. So you can take your snotty little attitude elsewhere."

Jake crossed his arms. "Prove it, Missy. Unless you're just tryin' to make yourself look smarter than you actually are. But who am I kidding," Jake stood and made like he was going to leave. "Everyone knows girls aren't good hackers."

Misha saw red. "Give me five minutes and you'll see." She ground out. "This _girl_ is going to make your jaw drop."

"This outta be good," Jake said. He sat down and stared at her, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms.

Shorty was very quiet, and Misha was thankful. She needed to think. She logged out of the chat room; her dad hadn't replied and probably wouldn't for a while. Misha stretched a little and cracked her knuckles.

She needed an in, a way to get into Stark's program without touching any of his tech physically. Which meant his internet connection or wifi.

Misha didn't want to raise any alarms by just breaking into Stark's wifi. That meant she needed a password, and there was a few ways to get those. Firstly, through the person with the wifi. Secondly, through the company they got it from, and last and her least favorite: Guessing.

Misha had no way of getting it through the first method, and not enough time for the second, so that last the third option. But a guy like Stark wouldn't be hard to figure out. Most people use a pets name, their first address, their phone number, very personal things. Misha figured that the most personal thing Stark had was well... Himself.

She typed in _tonystark_ and hit enter. And she was in. Her own passwords were complicated number sequences, all of which were stored separately on hard drives in a hidden safe in her wall. She had two master lock passwords that opened the safe and hard drives. Tony Stark was an incredibly smart man, but his arrogance would cost him a little pride today.

Misha lost herself in another world, even as the rest of the patrons around her went about their daily business, unaware a crime was being committed at the table near them. She could hear Shorty and Jake arguing, but she paid no attention. She was bypassing security codes, blowing through stock information, and leaving random smiley faces in business reports. Eventually she hacked her way into Tony Stark's blueprints, which took her longer than she liked. She checked her watch; she still had a minute left.

She shifted through file after file, and then she found one on the Iron Man suits.

Thirty seconds.

The information in the file was all she needed to access the suit's controls wireless. She typed in a command.

"Done," She said. She spun her laptop around to face Jake, who stared at the screen, speechless. And yes, his jaw did drop. She felt maybe a little too smug about her felony.

Misha had hacked Stark's security footage too, and they all watched as one of the Iron Men came alive and began to do an extremely awkward robot dance in a large garage.

"B-but how?" Jake stuttered. Misha stretched again. "Sorry Jake, I don't kiss and tell." Misha said. "C'mon, Shorty, I've got places to be and people to see."

They sashayed out the door, leaving Jake to stare open mouthed after them. If Misha tripped up a little because of her crutches, well, she was still cool.

/

"Sir, there seems to be a security breach," JARVIS turned down the volume of the rock music blaring through Tony Stark's workshop.

"Standard protocols apply." Tony said, elbow deep in the Mark XLIII suit. "Flush 'em out." Tony didn't look up until JARVIS spoke again.

"Sir, my protocols have been overridden. A person or persons unknown are currently accessing our secure database. They are looking at files on the older suits."

"Get me an IP address and start a trace," Tony said. He grabbed a cloth and wiped his greasy hands. "And do the password rotation a little early."

Tony walked to his desk and brought his screen up. Red alerts were popping up everywhere. "JARVIS, they've been through everything in the space of four minutes!"

"They seem to want access to a suit- Sir! Behind you!"

A suit put up on the wall suddenly lit up and began to move. Tony dove for one of his repulsor gloves and rolled behind his desk. He peeked around it when there was nothing but heavy clunking noises.

He almost laughed when he saw his suit doing a very awkward version of the robot. Tony aimed his glove at it and waited a moment. After about ten seconds of stilted dancing, the suit walked back into place on the wall and powered down.

"JARVIS, do I have the all clear?" Tony whispered.

"Yes, sir. The person or persons who hacked us seemed to have accessed all of our files but only read the ones pertaining to the Iron Man suits and how to power it remotely. There is no trace of the hacker in our computers, they did not leave a virus."  
"Did you get an IP address?" Tony asked.

"A trace is nearly complete, sir." Jarvis replied. Tony sat his repulser glove on the desk and went back to his computer. The IP trace was complete. He pulled the name the computer was registered to and his eyes widened.

"JARVIS, put a call through to Coulson. We've got a trace on James Harris."

/

Misha barged into her apartment and started locking the place down. When she keyed a command into a keypad beside the door, steel window shades rolled down, the door locked, with four extra deadbolts slid into place. She had designed and built the security system herself, a bored science project she worked on while her dad was in his lab. If anyone tried to break into the apartment than it would send an alert to her phone, and lock down the entire place. It would be impenetrable.

Misha pulled the flash drive out of the bag and sat at her desk. She drummed her fingers impatiently while her computer booted up. And then she froze, the flash drive poised to connect.

Did she really want to know what her dad had been doing?  
All her life he had hidden his work from her. And it honestly made her furious. She had willingly let him use her for experiments, letting him take blood and DNA samples from her frequently, and he had never thought to actually tell her what he needed it for. She had never asked him because she trusted him, it was as simple as that. But now he was gone, and whatever was on this flash drive might be the key to helping him.

Misha connected the flash drive to her computer and waited. If she knew her dad like she thought she did, the flash drive would be heavily locked.

She was right. A box popped up on her screen asking for the password.

James Harris had a love-hate relationship with passwords. He had always forgotten them and had never remembered to write them down. So he and Misha and he had designed a system. The first password of any locked file that was to be shared between them was to always be the same password, a series of numbers that meant nothing to anyone else but Misha and her dad.

37210307021

3, ,7, and 21.

They were Misha's favorite numbers and the only personal thing James' could remember about her. Misha had stopped letting that hurt her a long time ago. Her dad was brilliant, but he couldn't connect emotionally and had trouble remembering anything about the people that didn't pertain to his work.

Misha typed in the password. She opened the first file and scanned through information on intelligence agencies around the globe. Every agency that had a file on James Harris was there. The one with the largest file was HYDRA.

Misha read though HYDRA's file first. It was extensive, and most of the information pertained to people with exceptional abilities, cross species genetics, and even magic.

And all of it detailed her dad's work on each of those subjects.

Misha was officially freaked out.

"Okay, negligent father turns out to be a mad scientist, my life is a book outline." Misha muttered.

She had reached the end of the file. A new password box popped up on the screen. It was a complicated mathematical equation. Misha raised an eyebrow and set back. This kind of password was new for her dad. Math problems can be solved, unlike most passwords. This seemed to be something to slow her down. Misha was good with math, but this kind of equation took her longer to solve.

She grabbed a pen and paper and started working, with a Guns & Roses Greatest Hits album playing as a distraction. She got up a few times and awkwardly crutch-ed herself to the kitchen, opened the fridge and closed it, then sat back down.

She fiddled with her calculator for a while, worked on the problem some more, then gave up and called Shorty.

"Hey, I'm bored, what are you doing?" Misha asked. She stuck her broken foot on the desk.

"I'm actually almost to work, but we should hang out tomorrow morning if you want," Shorty said. "And this time I swear I won't make you commit a potential felony."

"S'not my first," Misha muttered.

"What?"

"I lost my purse," Misha said. "I think it's in your car." She looked down at her brown purse beside her desk.

"Anyway, I'm at work, I'll text you later." Shorty said. "Kisses! Bye!"

Misha didn't bother replying and let Shorty hang up. She stared up at the ceiling aimlessly.

"Oh!" Misha said, then sat up and solved the math problem.

She typed in the answer, grinning manically. She _loved_ her random bursts of inspiration.

The files opened and she started reading. It occurred to her she should take notes. Then she remembered that she had an eidetic memory and would remember anyway.

This file was possibly creepier; it contained detailed reports of all HYDRA operations that were completed and ongoing. Misha realized she could probably sell some of this information and maybe get a new car, but she didn't think her dad would be too impressed with that. She scrolled down tot he ongoing files and looked through them idly. One was titled _Operation Control_ and it looked interesting. Misha opened it and read it.

"Oh, gosh," She said, mouth agape. Robot Apocalypse? Really?

/

Peter Parker really wished that he got to go back to his apartment and sleep, but his luck didn't run that way. S.H.E.I.L.D. had called him in at the last minute as backup for an extraction team. So as tired as he was, he suited up and swung out through the city streets to the meeting point.

The extraction team leader explained to him what they were doing, a simple in and out job. Grab the guy, get the data, and get back to base. He didn't even have to go in unless something went wrong. Peter rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. The team moved into the apartment building and out of sight. Peter occasionally heard something over his comns.

Peter sat on the hood of one of the black SUV's that S.H.E.I.L.D. was so fond of, kicking his feet. He really should be writing a paper right now, it counted for 25% of his grade for this semester, and he really needed to get his grades up.

The team had been in for about five minutes when Peter heard the gunshot. He went on alert, waiting to hear anything over the comns. Then, suddenly; "Spider Man, move in, man down!"

Peter was on the roof of the apartment building in three seconds. "Status report," He said.

"Man down, called medics in, suspect is white teenage female wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, she is using crutches."

Peter snorted. "How did some girl with crutches avoid your team again?"

Peter was on the roof top of the building beside the apartment before the team leader managed to reply. He looked down; the girl had made it down the fire escape and was managing to go pretty fast with a pair of crutches. Peter spotted a red cast on her foot. He lightly ran along the top of the roof.

"Where are you gong?" He asked. He dropped on a thread in front of her. She shrieked and whacked him in the face with her crutch. Peter cursed and dropped to his feet.

"Look, I just want to talk!" He said. "Why are you running?"  
The girl looked ready to take off again, but drew herself up at his words, furious. "Why am I running?" She asked. "Ten armed men just tried to break through my door and I have no idea why, of _course_ I'm running!"

"Lady, I'm just supposed to be here for backup, I really don't feel like getting into a debate with you over S.H.E.I.L.D.'s admittedly shady tactics, but you shot someone and this is my job now so I'm going to just kinda-"

Peter shot a web at her and stuck her to the wall. "Sorry about this," He said. "I'm sure you're actually really nice."

He webbed her securely and then propped her crutches against the wall beside her. She was struggling against the sticky webbing across her arms and torso.

"Suspect is apprehended, in the alley beside the building." Peter said in his comns. "Sir, I'm going home to sleep, don't wake me unless there's an apocalypse or something."

He turned to shoot a web, but the girl yelled at him to stop.

"Wait! There's actually an apocalypse about to happen," She said.

She couldn't see his facial expression, but the look Peter was giving her could kill a hydra.

"You said you work for S.H.E.I.L.D?" She asked. "They're the good guys, right?"  
"Good guys is used loosely here, but yes." Peter said warily. He turned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"And Tony Stark works for S.H.E.I.L.D?" The girl asked.

"Um he's an Avenger and I think that's separate, but they collaborate." Peter said. "What does this have to do with Tony Stark?"

The girl took a deep breath. "Well, I just found out that every Smart-Stark appliance that has been manufactured in the last six months has a virus that's about to hack everyone who has a Smart-Stark appliance's credit cards, SS Numbers, and medical records."

"One week of not having to save the world," Peter looked imploringly to the sky. " _One week, PLEASE._ "

Peter grabbed his cell phone and dialed the private number.

"Coulson."

"Tell the Avengers to assemble," Peter said. "We have another apocalypse."

Savina Jones _ Steve Rogers?

Misha Harris_ Peter Parker or Iron Man

Black Widow_- Hulk

Misha's perception of her dad was violently disillusioned after she found a file on herself in an intelligence agency's database that went by the name of S.H.E.I.L.D. Misha had to stop reading her file for a moment and she put her head in her hands. All those experiments... For this?  
Her dad had taken her DNA and twisted it somehow, and Misha didn't fully understand the medical terminology but it sounded like there was something _in Misha_ , that would emerge soon.

And her dad had put it there with the help of a HYDRA scientist by the name of... Dr. List.

Misha ran to the toilet and threw up.

Misha Harris pulled her laptop out of her bag and sat on the cold stone wall. As she waited for it to boot up she checked her phone for texts. She had a couple from Yvonne "Shorty" Jones, asking where she was.

 _I'm outside. I need to talk to you._ Misha sent back.

OK. Shorty replied.

Misha entered her password on her laptop, then hacked into the wifi at the apartment building beside her. She couldn't afford to pay for wifi on her student salary, so most days she went to Starbucks for wifi or hacked into it.


	2. Chapter 2

Misha was _so done_.

After Spider-Man had called for the Avengers to assemble, someone had yanked a black cloth bag over her head and shoved her into a car. Misha was scared out of her mind, but she was pretty sure that this was the most cliche scenario ever. Also, she was thirsty. And her ankle hurt. They'd knocked her around a bit while getting her into the car, and she had hit her ankle on the door.

She'd been on the floor of this car for a while now. Should she be counting turns and stuff like that? That's what her dad had taught her to do if she was ever kidnapped. Oh well. Too late now.

She could barely make out the guys in the front talking lowly, so no figuring out where they were going from them.

The car stopped, a door slammed. Rough hands yanked her up and out of the car. Misha tried to balance on her good leg. Someone sighed, loudly, and then she was shoved back into... A wheelchair?

She was turned backwards and yanked up a flight of stairs, the man grunting and swearing. Like c'mon, dude, she didn't weigh that much. She was pretty average, not back breaking. The dude turned the chair around again. Misha tried to focus on sounds. Someone else was walking with them, but didn't seem to be helping with the wheelchair.

"Where are you taking me?" Misha asked. "And isn't it breaking from the bad guy's handbook to give your victim a wheelchair?"

"Not the bad guys." The man grunted.

"Kinda shady good guys, aren't you? Who do you work for? FBI? CIA? HYDRA?"

"What do you know about HYDRA?" The dude asked, then there was a slapping sound.

"Don't talk to her until she's debriefed, Agent." The other man spoke at last.

The dude grumbled for a moment, and the rest of Misha's blind wheelchair ride was spent in silence. Very boring, long silence.

All at once they stopped, and the bag was yanked off her head. Misha blinked to accustom herself to the bright lights.

"Um, hi?" She said awkwardly. No one spoke back. Misha stared around at two of Earth's Mightiest Heroes and wished she was at home with her laptop.

Tony Stark was on a tablet tapping away. He didn't glance up at all. The guy her dad used to write fan mail was on her left, awkwardly drumming his fingers on the table. He quirked a half smile at her. Dr. Bruce Banner used to be James' Harris' hero. Misha was pretty sure her dad had met and taken a picture with him before, you know, Banner got green and smashy.

At the opposite end of the table to Misha was a unremarkable man in his late forties. He had a couple of files in front of him that he was reading. He looked up at Misha after another awkward minute.

"Hello, Ms. Harris. I'm pleased to meet you. I am Agent Coulson. This is Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner."

"Um, yeah, I figured that," Misha said. "Do you guys realize a virus is going to activate in less than twenty four hours that could potentially devastate the economy as we know it?"  
"I heard a rumor, yes." Coulson said. "Our mutual friend filled me in."

"Then you realize the only way we can stop this is if Stark Industries halts all manufacturing and does a total recall, and then we need to figure out the virus and how to stop it."

"Already on it," Tony Stark said. "I can't find anything out of place in any of the products you named. There is no virus."

"There is a virus, but it's not written in any computer code I've seen before. It's base coding is a basic time releasing mechanism, but it's mixed with something else. I only got to see some of it before I was rudely interrupted." Misha said. "The rest of the information on the virus is at my apartment."

"And how did you get this information anyway?" Tony asked. "Kinda shady if you ask me." He looked pointedly at Agent Coulson. Coulson didn't look at him.

"Ms. Harris, you can see how we are a little suspicious on how you came to know all of this. Care to explain?"

Misha was getting more and more frustrated. "I got it off a flash drive I got from someone and that's totally not important right now! You _need_ to let me go so I can get back and get the rest of the virus information."

"We can't let you go. Along with suspected terrorism, you're suspected of helping a fugitive from the law."

" _WHAT._ " Misha exploded. "I would _never-_ "

"You're the only one here who knows anything about a supposed act of terrorism, the only child of a criminal mastermind, and you're certainly capable of engineering all of this if your file is anything to go by." Coulson said. He leaned forward, holding Misha's furious eyes. "Now, give me one good reason why any of us should trust you."

Misha deflated, leaning back against the wheelchair. She took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out, then spoke quietly.

"I've been a hacker since I was twelve years old. I've built and designed tech and sold it to major companies to help fund my dad's research, starting back when I was ten. Every single thing I've designed is meant for good and used as such. I've never broken the law in a malicious way. I want to design and build tech that will help build a better world. I'm not a terrorist, I'm a mechanical designer if you want to label me. And I would never do anything like this just to get money."

"Wait, so you're a mechanical designer that just so happens to be fluent in three languages, graduated high school at the age of thirteen, has two degrees in computer engineering, one in mechanical engineering, and holds patents on at lest twenty-seven widely used computer programs, small robotics, and security programs." Tony said. "How old are you again?"

Misha looked up at him in surprise. Obviously he'd looked her up on his Stark Tablet.

"I'm twenty-one next month." Misha replied. Coulson was regarding her with a new interest.

"Our files on you are clearly incomplete. Seeing as our computer analyst is currently out of the country, we will allow you to work on dismantling the virus under extensive supervision. If you succeed than we will discuss options to keep you out of prison."

"No need for all of that," Tony asked. "Agent, no employee of Stark Industries can go to prison, so you can get that out of your head right now."

"I wasn't aware that your employees were above that law, or that Ms. Harris is an employee of yours." Coulson said.

"Sure she is, I just hired her," Tony said. He pushed his tablet across the table to Misha. "Sign here and you're home free gorgeous."

Misha signed.

Coulson glared at Tony, as did Captain America and the scar red haired lady. Dr. Banner just seemed kind of pleased.

"I will personally take full responsibility for her," Tony said. "Also, what's up with the wheelchair? There isn't anything on here that mentions a crippling injury."

"I broke my ankle and Spider-Man has my crutches."

"Where is he anyway?" Tony said. He got up and pulled Misha's wheelchair out from the table and started to push her from the room. "Bug Boy is supposed to be helping me with something."

Misha shrugged. She turned back and waved at Coulson. "Bye!" She said happily. Coulson gave her a sort of half wave and uttered a long suffering sigh.

"C'mon Bruce!" Tony yelled over his shoulder. Dr. Banner followed them sheepishly.

"So, what all do you need?" Tony asked Misha. "I can get you set up with whatever you need within an hour."  
"My laptop and some gear from my place for now. I have a couple of specialized programs locked up that I need to get too."

"I can send someone down to get all of that right now," Tony said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Um, no offense to whoever you wanted to send, but they wouldn't get by the first door code," Misha said. "I need to go myself. And I need to get some crutches."

"Well, that I can do. I have Spider-Man's number." Tony replied. He pressed his phone to his ear and gestured for Bruce to take Misha's wheelchair. Bruce wheeled her to an elevator while Tony spoke on the phone.

"Where exactly are we?" Misha asked.

"We're at a S.H.E.I.L.D. facility in New York." Bruce replied. "It's not actually that far from your apartment."

"Good, we need to get a move on. We have about twenty-three hours and forty-three minutes until the virus activates and I'll need at least ten of those to crack it."  
/

Tony and Bruce helped Misha toddle on one foot up her apartment stairs. Tony eventually suggested that he and Bruce join hands and form a sort of seat for Misha. She agreed and three flights of stairs later they were standing in front of Misha's door.

It didn't look like there was any type of security for her apartment at all. Tony and Bruce stood back and watched as Misha moved a hidden panel on the door aside. The panel was painted to look like the door, and underneath was a glass touch screen. Misha moved several dots around, then slid them all to the right. The door unlocked with a click, and she pulled it open after pressing a hidden button on the handle.

"That was dramatic," Tony commented. Misha shrugged. "If anyone but me did that, it would taser them and automatically call the police. It's dramatic but necessary."

"What are you keeping in here?" Bruce asked. Misha pushed the door open.

"Come in and see," She said. They helped her hobble through the door. Misha clapped her hands twice, and the lights came on.

Machines softly whirred to life. Tony let go of Misha and walked over to her computer system on the wall. He touched one slowly. "What's this for?"

"That's the prototype for a new computer I'm building. It'll end up being a laptop probably, because those are more popular right now, but I haven't worked on it in a while." Misha replied. She grabbed her laptop and its bag and started packing stuff up. She grabbed the flash drive and stuffed it down her bra when Bruce and Tony were looking elsewhere.

"What's the idea behind it?" Tony asked.

"Better core, it won't overheat, it's about four times faster than the new laptop that Stark Industries came out with last year." Misha said. "Um, no offense."

"None taken, this is awesome!" Tony said.

Bruce was exploring the other rooms. Misha saw him go into her dad's room out of the corner of her eye. She tensed but didn't say anything to him. He soon wandered back out.

"Boyfriend's stuff?" He asked her. She shook her head. "My dads." She replied.

Tony stilled for a moment, his hand resting on another of Misha's inventions. (That particular one was for touch-screen advancement, Misha hadn't finished it yet.)

"Where is your dad anyway?" Tony asked causally. Too casually.

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to him in months." Misha replied. Which wasn't a lie, she hadn't spoken to her dad in months, she had only used the chat room.

"Did he say where he was going?" Tony asked. He looked through a couple of Misha's blueprints nonchalantly.

"Look, I know S.H.E.I.L.D. is looking for my dad." Misha stated bluntly. Bruce winced.

"Not just S.H.E.I.L.D., everyone is looking for him." Tony said. He turned back to her and folded his arms. "A lot of stuff could go badly wrong if someone else gets to him first."

"I don't know where he is." Misha said, looking him in the eye. "He left here six months ago in the middle of the night. He got a cab, used a credit card to pay, then went to the bank and took out fifteen grand from two separate bank accounts. He has thirty grand, two fake identities, and he's smart enough to adapt to any country or region that he chooses to go to. You'll be lucky to even hear a rumor about him, let alone find him."

"Well, maybe we have some luck coming." Tony said. He looked down awkwardly.

"Let's go, I have what I need," Misha said briskly. "Wait- Oh, actually, Dr. Banner, will you get my other pair of crutches out of that closet please?"

/

Misha _adored_ Avenger's Tower.

"Okay, I'm never leaving," Were the first words out of her mouth when Tony showed her the lab. Misha sat her laptop down on a table and started playing with the screens, pulling them up and dragging stuff around.

"Sir, should I add Ms. Harris' fingerprints to the door lock?" JARVIS asked.

"Go ahead, buddy," Tony replied. Misha shot an eyebrow up at Tony when JARVIS spoke.

"That's JARVIS, my AI." Tony said in answer.

"You have an AI-" Misha started to squeal, but Bruce cut her off. "We can play I'll show you mine, you show me yours later ladies, we have to get this threat off the table."

Tony pouted but Misha grabbed her laptop and started plugging stuff in.

"If I connect to your mainframe I can access the company's information, and I can order a recall from there unless you want to do that manually." Misha said. "I can do that now or get started on decoding the virus?"  
"I'll call Pepper and get her on it, just start on the virus," Tony said. "I'll get one of the newer Stark-Phones and see if I can find the virus on it."

Misha got to work. She found the information on the flash drive about the virus right away, then started copying the coding information onto a file.

"I need music," Misha mumbled. She jumped when JARVIS spoke to her.

"I can bring up any and all music that you like, Ms. Harris. Speak a preference and I'll create a play list momentarily."

"Um, anything classic rock, Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, AC/DC? And maybe Poison." Misha said.

Music started up immediately. Misha got back to decoding.

After about an hour, Tony walked over and read over what Misha had done, a mangled Stark Phone in his hand.

"JARVIS, put the code up here for me," He said. A replica of the code Misha had deciphered appeared on a screen. Tony did something with his hands that Misha couldn't see, then he moved his arm in a throwing motion.

The code materialized in the center of the room in deep blues and blacks, constantly moving around. It went from a circular shape to a square and then back again, all under ten seconds.

"Bruce, what does this remind you of?" Tony asked. He stared intently at the constantly shifting code.

Dr. Banner walked around the floating code, staring intently. "This looks exactly how-"

"The base for Ultron looked." Tony finished for him. "This means that someone got into my tech sometime back when we were fighting Ultron and planted this."  
"You fought Ultron about six months ago, right?" Misha asked. "Yeah, about six months ago sounds right. Why?" Tony asked Misha.

She walked over to the floating code and tapped it lightly. It shrank away from her touch.

"Interesting..." Bruce said.

"When all of that was going down my dad was acting weird. After the Avenger's gave the all clear he packed up and left. I didn't really think too much of the timing, I was too worried about him being gone, but if he had anything to do with this or with Ultron than I want him to explain himself." Misha said.

"I'm liking your dad less and less." Tony muttered.

"Me too," Misha said, staring at the floating code. "Me too."


End file.
